


Ribbon

by Musyc



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Draco Malfoy - character, F/M, Fantasy, Hair ribbon, Masturbation, Sexual Fantasy, wanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-20
Updated: 2011-05-20
Packaged: 2017-10-19 15:04:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/202158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musyc/pseuds/Musyc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He would never give her a second thought, never lie awake fighting to keep his hands out of his pyjamas and off his twitching cock if it hadn't been for her fucking hair. Wild, untamed, uncaged.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ribbon

Draco lay curled on his side, his knees tucked up to his chest. One hand held the pillow beneath his head with a tight grip, knuckles white and nails digging through the fabric to cut into his palm. He took a shuddering breath and turned his head, burying his face in the pillow. His other hand moved as if it were entirely separate from him, an individual being with plans and wants of its own, slipping beneath the waistband of his loose pyjamas. The tips of his fingers found his cock, soft and limp against his thigh. One finger moved, trailing down to the thin, narrow opening of his foreskin. He sank his teeth into his lip, fingers trembling as he silently ordered himself to pull his hand away. To roll over and go to sleep without the fantasy of her mouth on his cock, of her hair dancing across his skin.

Her fucking hair. He groaned into the pillow and tugged his foreskin back to expose the head of his cock. Her long, wild hair, a mess of tangled curls, a cloud of dark waves that any goddess would envy. He would never give her a second thought, never lie awake fighting to keep his hands out of his pyjamas and off his twitching cock if it hadn't been for her fucking hair. Wild, untamed, uncaged. It represented everything she was and everything he could never have. Glory. Power. Freedom. Draco swore and rolled onto his stomach, his hand flattened beneath his cock. It throbbed against his palm, blood rushing to his groin, and he swore again.

He flung the pillow onto the floor and jerked open the drawer of the bedside table. Groping inside, he past bits of parchment, cufflinks, and other rubbish. His fingers closed around a small box and he hauled it from the drawer to cradle it against his chest.

He clung to the box, fingers moving weakly against his cock as he tried one final time to argue himself out of this. This want. This desire. This _need_. It was wrong, it was indecent, it was perverse. His thumb flipped open the latch of the silver box and pushed the cover back, and he felt the length of silk inside, curled up on velvet. Draco surrendered. He grabbed the ribbon tight in his fist, shoved the box onto the floor with a muffled grunt.

He flipped onto his back and planted his feet in the soft mattress. His hips snapped up and he shoved his pyjamas down, free hand scrabbling to push the material past his thighs. The waistband dug into the sides of his knees and his cock throbbed as the cool breeze from the open window hit his skin. Draco pulled at his lip with his teeth, scraped at the skin until a small piece tore away and he tasted blood. He licked his mouth, pulling the copper-iron tang of blood onto his tongue, and he wrapped his hand around his cock.

The silk ribbon rubbed on his shaft, one frayed end dangling against the rounded pouch of his bollocks. He stroked, rubbing the ribbon on his shaft. Behind his tightly closed eyelids, she walked. Her long curls swayed against her back, held in a loose bunch at her nape with a twin of the dark ribbon tangled in his fingers. In his memory, Draco followed her through the corridor, his eyes locked on the ribbon. She turned her head to talk to someone beside her, and her hair moved, exposing the pale skin above her collar and the small, tight curls at her hairline. Her hand came up, rubbed her neck. Her fingertips found the knob of her spine and kneaded into the muscles there.

Draco ground his teeth and pressed his lips together but couldn't stop the moan as his thumb slipped over the head of his cock. He pressed into the tiny slit to pick up drops of precome and dragged the warm liquid over his skin. Twisting his fingers, he wrapped the ribbon around his cock, just beneath the ridge. In the past, the action she'd made had loosened the ribbon from her hair and he'd snatched it from the stone floor as he passed.

In his mind, the ribbon fell into his outstretched hands as the corridor emptied. She turned, her hair freed and streaming in a summer-warm wind, and she smiled at him. Her pink tongue flicked over lips as scarlet as the ribbon. In his fantasy, she dropped to her knees and opened her mouth. Draco's free hand clenched in the sheets as he imagined gripping a fistful of her hair.

He pumped his fist along his length. Dark brown eyes sparkled in his fantasy as she looked up to him, her expression warm and full of desire. Dark curls draped over her shoulders and danced against his thighs. Her lips fastened on him, tightened around him. Draco pulled on the ribbon, imagining the sucking pressure of her mouth, the quick flutters of her tongue. He ground his thumb into the base of his cock, pushed it up, dragged his hand along his shaft until the ribbon was beneath his fingers and he could see her, feel her. Until he could _believe_ that he had her mouth around him, hot and slick as silk.

Heels dug into the mattress, he lifted his hips, thrust into the channel of his fist, and sparks shattered across his closed eyelids. Red as the ribbon, red as her lips, spreading across a field as dark and warm as her eyes. His heart pounded against his chest, his breath burned in his lungs. He groaned as his cock jumped and spasmed in his hand, as he came with a shudder that racked his entire body. Thick, hot streams dripped over his fingers and down the tails of the ribbon. Panting, he grabbed the pillow and hauled it over his face, muffling the four short syllables of her name.

 _Hermione._

His hands fell limp at his sides. The pillow slid off his face. He lay still, fighting for breath, the ribbon cold and wet on his hip. He should move, he knew. Should get up and clean up and this time, _this time_ , throw the damned ribbon away. Toss it in the bin and forget about her wild curls. Forget about her.

He exhaled and grabbed his wand to clean up. The ribbon went back into the box, the box back into the drawer. Draco buried his head in his pillow and closed his eyes. Next time, he'd throw it away.


End file.
